Story Timeline: Friday 12th July 2013. One week after the events of Getting to Know You
Authors Note
Thor's return to the penthouse pushes Clint Barton into a potentially dangerous place forcing Natasha to intervene.
Ainsley confesses to Thor how his relationship with Clint has changed and Thor proves he is mighty in more ways than one.
No particular trigger warnings
Comments and reviews welcome
"If I have to get Jarvis to override the locking system it is not going to end well for you!"
Hawkeye opened the door. Even with a good dose of Mr Jack Daniel's finest sloshing around his system, he knew better than to ignore Tasha when she sounded like that.
"Hey Tash, come… …in" He slurred as she shouldered past him and sat down.
The spy glared at her friend as he stumbled back over to the couch. Red eyed, unshaven, unshowered by the smell of it, and still in the ratty old T-shirt and boxers he used as sleepwear. He hadn't looked as pathetic this for a while.
"Thought you were out with the others?" he asked, refilling his glass.
Thor had arrived back that afternoon, sun-browned and exuberant, having taken some of the senior Academy cadets through a week-long wilderness survival course. As a welcome home, Tony had booked a table at a restaurant in the Village, famous for its Battle of Steak challenge; 'How many 16 ounce steaks can YOU eat in an hour? Each week's winner eats free!'.
Thor and Steve were being obnoxiously Alpha Male about it, of course. The largely friendly rivalry between the two big men was a source of constant entertainment for the team and the rest of them were looking forward to the show. Tony just wanted to see how long it took before the manager started to cry.
Natasha poured herself a glass and sat back, crossing her legs. Even Bruce had been prised out of the research labs to join the party. Much though she loved her friend; surely he could have chosen to turn the crazy on tomorrow?
"I know better than to leave you alone when you're in this state" She knocked back the bourbon and poured herself another shot. "Now talk, and this had better be good. Thanks to you I'm missing Thor and Steve go toe-to-toe in an all-you-can-eat steakfight."
Clint sighed and stared down into the glass in his hand; trying to work out what was worse, being a sad drunk or worrying Tasha like this. He swallowed and grimaced as the liquor burned down into his stomach
"Just Dumbass Barton trying to drink his way into fucking up a sweet situation. You know, the usual…"
He grinned at her, but Tasha's expression remained fixed in a place between concern and anger. He'd only been on the receiving end of that look twice before. There would be no joking his way out of this one. He filled his glass but left it sitting on the table
"It's just…" he paused trying to get the words together "It's been really special this week with Doc. I don't mean the sex, but the time we've spent together, connecting with each other. Sharing stuff about his sister…. About what we've been through. I know you and I have talked but this felt, I dunno, different, intimate…"
They'd spent the whole week in each other's company, Doc opening up about the death of his family, the devastation he'd experienced after the murder of his sister and the intense pain and grief he felt daily; Clint speaking of about his own sense of guilt and betrayal, the nagging doubt of his own abilities which pushed him to take more and more risks to prove himself to the others. It had been four years since he'd gone to bed every night and wrapped his arms around someone who genuinely cared about him and what he needed.
He'd told himself he'd be fine when the Big Blond got home. It would be all smiles, hugs and back to the usual routine; then he'd woken up that morning, looked at Doc still curled up asleep beside him, and realised with a sick twist in his gut that he'd be alone again tonight.
Natasha groaned inwardly. She had been worrying about this happening since Clint first got involved in Thor and Ainsley's relationship, especially this past week when it had just been him and the doctor bonding together over their shared pain. The assassin's last three relationships hadn't lasted this long and she could see how much he was investing with it.
She'd felt a bit sick inside when she heard Clint talking about Bafandi again, and realised that the beautiful Englishwoman he'd felt so guilty about leaving to die was Ainsley's sister. More than Phil's death, that was the point it had really started to go bad for him. Despite his repeated insistence he was 'fine', she knew that wasn't the case. None of the men who had seen the killing grounds had ever been 'fine' again. Since then it had been a rough ride for the archer; the divorce, losing his hearing, Loki raping his mind, Phil's death…
"…Now Thor's home and I'm sittin' here feeling like the substitute fuck back in the dugout."
He threw back the shot and reached for the bottle. Natasha grabbed it out of his hand and stoppered it firmly
"That's the bourbon talking" she had crossed the line into anger now. "You really believe that's how Thor treats you? Or Ainsley? Especially after this week? You think that little of them?"
She got up and put the bottle on the far side of the room then turned to face him, folding her arms, keeping her voice hard. Clint looked miserable, like he was about to start crying, but she knew she couldn't afford to go easy. This kind of self-pity took him into dangerous places and sweet talking wouldn't help.
"So, are you in love with Ainsley? Or do you just think you are because of what you've both experienced, because he's being good to you, like he always is?"
It wouldn't be the first time. There had been a few days, back when they first knew each other, that a deepening friendship had been confused with love. One awkward, abortive, night in a Buenos Aires hotel room had disabused them both of that belief; but that had just been one night that never had the chance to get beyond a little embarrassing foreplay, not three weeks of increasingly intense connection.
He looked at her, weary and drained, hands limp in his lap
"I dunno, Tash. I just never felt this way with a guy before…"
That was true; Clint's occasional encounters with other men had been casual affairs, rarely going beyond a couple of quick fucks. Natasha had never seen him get emotionally involved before, if so certainly not to this extent, and couldn't decide if it was a good or bad sign that he felt so strongly about the young doctor.
"So, what then?" She brandished the bottle at him; trying not to shout but hearing the hoarse, anxious, edge in her voice "You drain this, go beat on his door at 3 in the morning; he tells you to go away, you turn into a jerk and next thing we're trying to stop Thor smearing you across the wall with his fists? It'll be just like before and this time Fury's not going to cut you any slack…"
She bit her lip to stop what she was going to say next but it echoed through her head
…and Phil's not here to bail you out!
Tasha was starting to freak, that was what got to him, realising just how near the danger zone he must be for her to get like this. Clint raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Look, I'm not gonna do anything stupid. I'm just having a feeling sorry for myself kinda day and maybe taking it a bit too far. This isn't gonna be like me yelling and throwing garbage at Laura's front door until they haul me off."
He swallowed hard, remembering…
…Perhaps he and Laura should never have got married. She had no connection with SHIELD, just a nice Montana country girl he thought he could share a bit of normality with. No understanding of the stress placed on field agents, especially lone operators like him. Maybe if they'd been together longer they might have stood a chance, but it had only been four months after he nervously stood beside Phil in that little Methodist country chapel waiting for the organ music to start, that his routine training mission has been re-assigned to the evacuation of foreigners from the violence in Bafandi.
The gaunt, haunted man who returned six weeks later had seen the fountain basins in Cathedral Square overflowing with bodies, stacks of severed heads and hands in the foyer of the Kintenge Hilton; the young woman who'd refused the chance of escape so she could try to save others.
Laura didn't deserve, and couldn't cope with, the drinking, the violent mood swings, finding him every morning passed out in front of the TV with an empty bottle in his lap. He'd never hit her, thank God, never turned into Dad, but she saw enough of the Barton Crazy to get her scared that he might. Enough that one night he'd come home to find his stuff waiting for him on the front step and her telling him to get out and stay away.
He'd gone on a three-day drunk; turning up outside on the third night after the bars had closed, crying and begging her to take him back. When she'd threatened to call the cops, he'd started smashing at the front door with the trashcan; screaming at her to let him in. Lucky for him she called Phil, not the cops, so it was his buddies who'd dragged him kicking, punching, biting and cursing, into the back of a van. A few of them had ended up with black eyes and broken noses.
When he'd sobered up in a detention cell, trying to figure out why he was there and what had happened, Phil had come in and spelled out the details in that precise, neutral way of his. Clint couldn't tell if he was disgusted with him or just plain disappointed and that was the worst of it; realising how badly he'd let down the man who'd given him a chance.
Coulson had backed him up at the disciplinary though; pointing out his service record to date, the strain he'd been under, and Laura didn't want to make a formal complaint. She didn't hate him, maybe she still cared for the Clint Barton she'd married, she just wanted this fucked up stranger out of her life.
The result was 6 months' loss of seniority; wages and pension garnished and two months' punishment detail. That had meant days doing mindless data entry in some SHIELD admin warehouse somewhere in Virginia; evenings and weekends in the Detention Block and mandatory psych evaluations every week. He'd signed the divorce papers she sent without bothering to read them.
By the time he was out and back on active duty, Laura had already moved away. She'd got married again since, to a dull, pleasant, reliable guy who sold farm equipment. She hadn't been able to make it to Phil's funeral, her first kid was about to be born, but she sent him a long, kind, letter that he still kept in the bedside drawer beneath his gun.
Fury had stuck his neck out and put him back onto his old assignments with the warning that he'd used up his last favour and he'd "…better get his ass out there racking up some fresh ones". Tasha had just asked 'Are we done with all this nonsense?'…
The look he gave her was pleading, almost helpless.
"Tash, I promise you, it's not like before. I wouldn't put you through that again…"
His shoulders slumped. He looked worn out, defeated. Natasha could feel her anger softening, aware of the unfamiliar territory her friend was negotiating and the hard-buried emotions he was being forced to deal with.
"I dunno if I'm in love with Doc or if it's just the hurt in me calling to the hurt in him. Yeah, I like him a lot and he likes me for sure but he loves Thor, loves him so bad it hurts to see it, and poor old Dumbass Barton don't stand a chance against that…."
Natasha shook her head with an exasperated sigh. Uncorking the bottle, she walked back over to the couch and poured them both another shot.
"Dumbass Barton doesn't; which is why Clint Barton has to knock him on the head and get back into the driving seat."
She gave him a tap on the cheek, halfway between a pat and a slap
"I don't understand what's going on between the three of you" Her laugh was short and bitter "but then I'm not qualified to judge on what makes a healthy relationship. What I see is how close the three of you have become; how Thor and Ainsley make space for you when you need it, not just when they want it. I've seen the way Ainsley's been here for you these last few days when he could easily have just curled up around his own pain. I think he genuinely cares for you a lot…"
She took a slug straight from the bottle
Screw this! I need to be drunk as well
"…but you're right, he and Thor love each other so passionately it's frightening. You have to accept that will always be the case no matter how close the two of you become."
Clint pushed the shot away from him across the table and looked at her with a sheepish smile
"So, what your telling me is I'm acting like a spoiled asshole just because Doc is gonna need a little alone time with Thor now that the Big Blond's home?"
"That's an accurate summary of the situation!" she admitted, smiling at him for the first time
"Clint, you've started dealing with some big emotional issues the last few days; things you've had bottled up inside you for far too long. That's going to take a lot of working through. If you really think you love Ainsley, then you should trust and respect him enough to believe that he's not going to let you cope with that alone, or that Thor's going to resent him or you for it. If they do, I'll be having words…"
Clint put his arms around her and hugged her close.
"Tash, what've I done to deserve a friend like you?"
She rolled her eyes.
"Not killing me was a good start. Now we're going to sit here and talk nicely over a couple more drinks, until I'm sure you're not going to be an idiot, then at 8am sharp tomorrow I'm dragging you down to the gym and beating what's left of the self-pity out of you. Deal?"
They clinked glasses
"Deal" That familiar Barton smirk was back on his face "Hell, all I wanted was to fuck the God of Thunder and his hot British boyfriend. How'd it get so complicated?
She shrugged, remembering words spoken to her in a Calcutta slum
"We don't always get what we want."
"So, how's it going with Bruce?"
The look on her face was priceless.
"Hey, you're not the only one 'round here who notices things. You pair've been giving each other the glad eye for weeks, and I've seen you slipping up to the lab with a bottle of Ainsley's fancy wine more than once"
She smiled and put down her glass.
"We've been taking it slow; Bruce is used to being pretty closed off, for obvious reasons, and I'm not exactly comfortable making romantic connections myself, but things are 'going' as you put it."
His smile had turned into a broad, leering, grin
"Tash, I gotta ask…"
"Don't you dare…."
"…Hulk smash? OW!"
####
"Honestly, Snuggie-Bear, I don't know where you put it all. Twelve steaks! Have Asgardians got a second stomach or something?"
Ainsley patted Thor's hard, flat, belly and stood on tip-toe to kiss him as he handed him his drink. The big warrior was arranging the rewards of his victory on a shelf beside the couch; a gold-coloured plastic trophy in the shape of a T-Bone steak, a framed certificate and a photo of him cheesing for the camera while a pale and sweaty looking Steve Rogers leaned on his shoulder.
"Have you not been told?" Thor asked with a look of mock-surprise "I am Mighty!"
"You certainly are" laughed his lover, sprawling back on the couch and shifting over to give space for Thor as he threw himself down beside him.
"What is this drink called? It is very good"
"A Manhattan, entirely appropriate and excellent for after dinner" Ainsley took an appreciative sip. Director Fury had shown him how to mix a perfect one during his visit to the Triskelion to discuss the Academy Project.
That man is full of the most surprising secrets.
He rubbed his own stomach
"One steak was more than enough for me, and I'm going to be in the gym all weekend to make up for that dessert." He took another drink and smiled "I really thought Steve was going to be sick on the way back. We may have found his Kryptonite."
He looked over at Thor and saw the Asgardian was staring at the far wall with a puzzled look.
"Why did Clint not want to come out with us tonight? He said he was unwell but I do not believe that. He looked sad and I think he had been drinking."
He turned a questioning gaze on the doctor. Clint had hardly shown himself all day, and Thor clearly felt hurt he hadn't joined them at the restaurant. Ainsley sighed. This was a conversation he'd been hoping to avoid until tomorrow, Thor would not be in a mood to accept evasive answers.
If Oscar Wilde didn't say 'too much honesty after dinner is bad for the digestion' he probably should have
"I've told you about my sister, Izzie, and what happened to her?"
Thor nodded. They had spoken of her in London. A healer like Ainsley, who cared for children. A noble maiden of the House of Kerr, full of grace and beauty, who had been slain in a distant war while trying to save the children she tended.
"Clint met her, perhaps only a day or so before she was killed" He refilled their glasses, remembering the distress on the archer's face.
"He already felt guilty about not saving her, finding out she was my sister was incredibly painful for him. It brought up some very difficult memories for both us"
Thor took the proffered drink, set it down on the table and kissed the doctor's hand, holding it against his face
"Your sister was a lady of compassion and great courage, like my mother. You should speak of her more; it might not diminish your grief but it may torment you less. If Clint encountered her and also mourns her death it could be of great help for you both to speak of this together"
Ainsley looked down at his lover and kissed his forehead. He might not always be the smartest and his words sometimes clumsy but the Asgardian was far from stupid.
"I know, and this week's been a hard reminder that I've been keeping too much of that pain penned up inside. I'm hoping Clint is realising that as well, he's carrying a great deal of hurt with him."
"He spoke of his past?" Thor asked. He could sense the depth of darkness behind Hawkeye's sometimes manic levity, but the archer had shared little of his history before becoming a part of the Avengers.
"Some of it" Ainsley admitted "I've no doubt he'll share it with you in time"
"I understand. You are bound by the Oath of a Healer."
Here, as on Asgard, it was part of the burden of such to hold fast the secrets entrusted to them. Thor thought for a moment on how to word his next question. He disliked twisted speech and had no skill for it, but on Midgard it was not seen as proper to address certain subjects directly
"You and Clint; you were often… together?"
This time the questioning look was unequivocal. Ainsley sat back down on the couch beside him.
"We've slept together every night this week" he glanced nervously over at Thor "Does that bother you?"
Previously it had always been the three of them and there had never been the need to speak about limits or boundaries. Even with Thor going away, Ainsley had intended to spend most of his evenings catching up with work and reading; had been privately looking forward to a few night's uninterrupted sleep. Other than the nights they had shared with Clint, their relationship was strictly monogamous by mutual agreement.
He couldn't be sure Thor wouldn't see the nights he had spent alone with Clint as some form of betrayal or what his reaction would be if he did.
Thor mulled this information over. Part of him was very unhappy. He disliked the idea of his lover being with Clint in his absence, even though he was the friend who shared their bed; but to be fair to them it was not a thing that had been forbidden. Having discovered a shared pain, it was perhaps natural that Clint and Ainsley would have sought comfort in each other. He knew now why the archer had been so wary of his presence today.
"So, Clint is sad because I have returned and you are with me tonight?"
Ainsley took a long drink of his Manhattan
"That's a part of it, yes. We've become very close and I think he's afraid of what that might change between us." He glanced over at Thor again, trying to judge the Asgardian's mood "I think perhaps I am as well."
Well he's not reaching for Mjolnir yet, maybe we might just get through the night without Tony having to suit up
Thor was silent for a while, deep in thought, when he spoke it was careful and measured
"Are you sad that you are with me and not with him?" there was a painful pause "Do you still love me?"
Ainsley turned Thor's face to him and kissed him on the lips, seeing the question still there in his eyes, along with his fear of what the answer might be.
"Thor; I love you, and I'm happy to be with you. I always will be. I'm so sorry if I've made you feel you had to ask that."
Thor smiled with relief and affection, pulling Ainsley close and kissing him deeply. He had not wished to ask that question but he was glad of the answer and his heart was now clear. Once before he had faced a great test here in Midgard, now another lay before him. This was perhaps bound up with the Blood-Debt that tied him to Hawkeye
When their lips parted, Thor spoke softly
"But you are sad that Clint is unhappy?"
Ainsley nestled in under the curve of the Asgardian's strong arm
"Of course, he's our friend and we both care for him deeply. Clint's on the edge of a very dark place right now and I'm afraid that it won't take much to push him over that edge into who knows what"
Thor finished his drink. These Manhattans were good. He must get Ainsley to make them more often. Now he understood what he must do. He looked down at the young man beside him
"It will not trouble me if you wish to spend more time alone with Clint, even when I am here. It will not diminish the love between us. I also feel the darkness of which you speak and fear where it may lead him if left unchecked. There is a Fate that has been working between us since first we met; your shared pain tells me Clint is a part of that Fate and it must be worked through to its end."
He grinned at the look of astonishment Ainsley gave him. It was not often he could surprise his clever lover. This was better than beating Steve at Steak
"Besides, it will make it even more special for us when we are alone together, or together with Clint. It will show I am not taking you for granted."
He had heard those words on one of the television programmes that Tasha liked to watch when she thought no-one else was around. The ones where women sat on couches and talked. She had explained what they meant, then made him swear an oath never to tell the others of her watching these programmes on pain of waking up in Traction. It must be some solemn Midgardian Women's Mystery she had shared with him. He did not know where Traction was, but from Tasha's voice it did not sound like a good place.
Ainsley sat astride Thor's lap, took his face in his hands and kissed him for a long time.
"You have the warmest, most generous heart of any man I have ever met, and I can't believe how much I love you." His voice was rich with tender amazement. Taking the empty glass from his lover's hand he set it on the table and began to undo the buttons of Thor's shirt with a sly smile
"Time for you to remind me just how Mighty you are…"
###
Clint threw the empty bottle into the trash. Tasha had left a few minutes ago, finally convinced that he would just go to bed and not get up to any tricks. He stood swaying for a moment or two, running his fingers through his hair
Should really drink some water, gonna pay for this tomorrow
Instead he stumbled over and collapsed onto the bed. Pulling one of the pillows towards him he smelled it; the fabric still held traces of Ainsley's cologne. Hugging it tight to his chest, he curled up and fell asleep.